Originally piquing the interest when they
teamed up with Mr. Jan Jelinek for the
'1+3+1' project, Triosk have gone on to
mature into something altogether more
satisfying - taking the raw ingredients of jazz
then mixing them together to produce a take
on electronic free-expression that is utterly
compelling. For those new to Triosk's world,
their sound is best compared to a a tighter
take on the same territory developed by
Fridge; wherein a post-modern view on jazz
and its supporting cast becomes incrementally marinated in wisps of
electronica, minimal techno and lush instrumentation until it all unites
in a moment of abject clarity. Possessing a delineated cohesion from
their 'Moments Returns' LP, Triosk have refined their sound considerably,
filtering the more abstract elements from the stew and upping their
rhythm section - something that will sound familiar to anyone who has
sampled front man Richard Pike's solo skin bashing. Always attracting
comparisons to the likes of Tortoise, The Necks, Cinematic Orchestra
and Thelonius Monk, Triosk nonetheless orbit in a world of their own -
bringing a lightness of touch and awareness of when enough-is-enough
that is so oft missing in the over-indulged world of jazz. Opening
through the couched percussion of 'Visions IV', Triosk then go on to serve
up the kind of free-wheeling piano and tumbling rhythms that comes
across like Radiohead wedged at the core of a cyclical composition -
with the resultant bluster far more focused and gratifyingly addictive
than that description could ever suggest. Evidently granted an extended
spell in the studio, 'The Headlight Serenade' is a much richer LP in terms
of production - yet rather than drown the band's charm beneath a deluge
of mixing-desk frippery, it instead seems to have focused them even
more for a taut aural missive that liberally seeps class. Converted into
music, this translates as the wide-screen post-jazz of 'Lost Broadcast' (a
track Sigur Ros would be proud to call their own), 'Intensives Leben' and
its crowded percussion, and the closing contrast of 'Fear Survivor',
wherein a kennel of fierce electronics are brought under control by a
poignant piano melody. Triosk is the magic number...
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